


Machina

by littlecakes



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern with Magic, Falling In Love, Fluff, Humor, M/M, Strangers to Lovers, witch!Prompto
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-09
Updated: 2019-04-08
Packaged: 2020-01-07 03:54:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,992
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18402584
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/littlecakes/pseuds/littlecakes
Summary: Ignis breaks his pocketwatch, a family heirloom held by Scientia sons for centuries. Lucky for him, there's a new mechanic out at Hammerhead rumored to be able to fix anything by the name of Prompto Argentum. Little does he know that Prompto won't just fix his watch- he'll steal his heart.





	Machina

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ChocoSand](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChocoSand/gifts).



> This was written for Suwan as a part of the ffxv exchange for Valentine's day. I'm sorry it's so late! Since it's not on time I've decided the only way to fix this is to write more than one chapter ;) who knows how long it'll go. Lmao.

It starts, of course, with an accident. Ignis doesn’t really think he’s the type to cause, or have, accidents. As adviser to the prince of Lucis and the youngest royal tactician the Council has ever had, he thinks he’s probably more organized and careful than anyone else his age. He’s only twenty-two, after all, but he’s come very far and worked very hard for what he has.

Ignis has forgotten that twenty-two year olds, along with tenacious and hard-working, can also be a bit egotistical.

He’s decided that he can carry all 15 case files, along with his precious cup of Ebony, out of the office, down the stairs, past the security desk, through the parking garage doors, and to his car. It’s a bit precarious, but he’s got it all planned out. The full can of Ebony rests heavily on the folders, holding them in place, while spread fingers of a strong hand balance them from the bottom. It should be easy.

“Excuse me, Ignis. Do you have the time?” Cor, Marshal of the Crownsguard and someone Ignis probably shouldn’t brush off for the sake of full hands, asks.

“Just a moment,” Ignis replies, shifting his mountain of information and caffeine to the other hand, before reaching into his pocket with his left to extract his pocket watch.

It’s not just a pocket watch, of course. As a minimalistic person, Ignis carries very few things, but they’re all significant in their own little way. The pocket watch is perhaps the most important thing he carries on his person- besides the files, anyway. It was his father’s, but before his father it was his father’s father’s, and then his father’s father’s father’s…

Anyway, the pocket watch is a legacy in and of itself.

Which is why Ignis’ heart nearly stops as his clammy hands - thank you, Cor Leonis, for your ever-intimidating stare - twitch and the pocketwatch falls about three feet to the floor with a sick little crunch.

“...I’ll ask someone else,” Cor says, and walks away quickly.

“Shiva’s tits!” Ignis curses quietly under his breath.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“There’s a guy, y’know, that could fix that for ya,” Gladio’s deep rumble echoes over his shoulder. Ignis nearly drops the pocket watch  _ again _ before he closes his eyes and draws a deep breath.

“For someone so large, you are quite stealthy.”

Gladio grins broadly at him. “Parta the job, Iggy. Gotta be Noct’s shadow. Shadows are generally quiet.”

“... a good point,” Ignis mumbles, covering his eyes and setting the tiny screwdriver to the side.

“Broke your pop’s pocket watch, huh? Gonna be in big trouble, Iggy. Thing’s older than Solheim.”

_ “I know,” _ Ignis laments. “Father will surely strip me of my title when he sees it.”

“Dad knows a guy. Well. Dad’s  _ friend _ knows a guy. You remember Cid, out in Hammerhead?”

“I do.”

“Well,” Gladio says, perching on the edge of Ignis’ desk, which only whimpers in strain under Gladio’s weight rather than its normal wail, “he’s got a new guy out there. People are calling him a wizard. He can fix any machine.”

Looking down somberly at the pocket watch, Ignis turns it over in his hands. The little gold watch rattles as it does so; something’s loose inside, which definitely isn’t good. The glass inside is fractured like a spiderweb, and the beautiful, engraved casing is dented. The little moons and stars that circle Ifrit’s horned shadow are warped with the little flat spot created by the watch’s collision with the marble floor. Ignis supposes his heart dented a little, too, when he saw the watch fall.

“Alright, I’ll give him a try,” Ignis says hopefully.

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

The ‘guy’ in question doesn’t strike Ignis as some kind of mechanical wizard. In fact, when Cid introduces them, the petite blond kind of sputters and goes bright red before smiling up at Ignis eagerly. The man kind of reminds Ignis of a chocobo: blond, spunky, easily startled, and even the sound he makes when surprised sounds like a ‘kweh’.

“Hiya, I’m Prompto! I heard you have something that needs fixin’. I’m your guy!” he exclaims, prodding himself in his puffed chest with a thumb.

Ignis quirks an eyebrow. He’s so animated, unlike other people Ignis has met. Insomnians are generally reserved and quiet, but then again, this man clearly is not Insomnian. He’s clearly from Nifleheim but Ignis can’t help but wonder if he’s simply a sunbeam that’s taken on human form.

“Ah, yes… it’s my pocket watch, I’m afraid,” Ignis says, drawing a small sachet from his pocket. When he tried to fix it himself, he ended up with more pieces than when he started, embarrassingly enough. “I dropped it.”

“Come with me into my office,” Prompto announces, gesturing for Ignis to follow him. The yellow tank top he’s wearing brushes over his hips as he walks and that’s a little more distracting than Ignis would care to admit. He’s only 22, after all; how could he  _ not _ notice?

His office, as it turns out, is a little table crammed into the corner of Cid’s massive garage. There’s a looking glass attached to an arm that has about a dozen little lenses on it and a huge, bright lamp overhead that lights up the table’s entire surface. Aside from a box of plastic bags, a pair of tweezers, and a screwdriver, there’s not much else.

It makes Ignis a little wary.

“Excuse me, Mr…”

Prompto laughs, “Mr. Argentum is my dad,  _ please _ call me Prompto,” as he plops down on the stool opposite Ignis and grabs the looking glass, swinging the arm so it swoops right under Prompto’s nose. The little lenses swish right out of the way. 

“Hey, I need a hundred times magnified, not three hundred,” the blond mutters. Is he talking to the looking glass or to Ignis? The lenses click and switch as they move autonomously beneath Prompto’s careful eye. “Thank you,” he mutters.

“Um. Excuse, me, Prompto,” Ignis says, clearing his throat, “but where are your tools?”

“You’re lookin’ at ‘em,” Prompto replies, wiggling his fingers. “Lemme see your watch.”

Ignis hands the little sachet across the table to Prompto before sitting on a stool to watch. He folds his hands in his lap before crossing his legs once, twice, and a third time. His lower lip finds its way between his teeth as he nibbles at it anxiously. Prompto doesn’t seem at all like the man Gladio described.

“Oh, you poor thing,” Prompto mutters as his brilliant lavender eyes look through the glass. They’re blown up comically large in the lenses, but Ignis can see all the little flecks of blue in the purple, the strands of azure that paint his irises like the night sky.

_ Oh _ .

Prompto pushes the looking glass away with the back of his hand as he presses the other, palm-down, over the watch. Closing his eyes, he inhales sharply through his nose and Ignis swears he can see blond locks lift from the smaller man’s scalp as he scrunches his eyebrows together.

Pop!

“What was that?” Ignis asks incredulously as Prompto lifts his palm. There. The casing is perfect now, as it once was before the fateful fall.

“Oh, my,” Ignis whispers, pushing his glasses up his nose as he leans over to investigate. Prompto flips the cover open to reveal a virginal glass face. The arms still droop to the side where Ignis left them, though. “How on Eos did you do that, Prompto?”

“Trade secret,” the blonde says with a grin. “Bad news, I’m gonna need to order some parts. It’s missing some bits ‘n pieces.”

“Oh,” Ignis says, staring at Prompto’s hands as he gestures enthusiastically.

_ How did he do that? _

“Good news, it’ll only take a week for them to get here!”

“Oh,” Ignis says absentmindedly. He can’t decide whether to look at Prompto’s cheshire grin or his spindly fingers.

“You good, Iggy?”

Snapping back to reality, Ignis says, “yes. Apologies. When shall I return for my watch?”

“I’ll call you.”

“Alright.”

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

It only takes two days for Ignis to realize that he was so stunned that he forgot to pay Prompto for his services. Prompto apparently forgot to ask, too, which honestly doesn’t surprise Ignis. He was so enraptured by Ignis’ watch that when he took leave, the blond was still muttering under his breath to the little piece of machinery. It brings Ignis some comfort to know that Prompto is so invested in his watch.

Perhaps he’s a little crazy, but that doesn’t mean he isn’t an excellent machinist. As Ignis makes the journey to Hammerhead, he’s still trying to figure out exactly  _ how _ Prompto fixed his watch with just a press of his palm. Maybe it’s an old machinist secret, he wonders. Maybe it was just a trick of the eye and there was another tool involved that Ignis just didn’t have the wherewithal to see.

That’s preposterous of course. Ignis has an eye for detail and wouldn’t miss something that simple. That leaves him with the question of how all over again.

When Ignis arrives at Hammerhead, Prompto is with Cindy working on a large tractor. Cindy is sitting in the driver’s seat, looking positively relaxed, while all Ignis can see of Prompto is his beaten, dirty boots sticking out from beneath it.

“Well hey there, Ignis!” Cindy calls down to him. “Back so soon? Prom doesn’t have yer parts yet!”

“It appears we have forgotten to discuss payment,” Ignis calls back.

An exasperated grumble calls out from beneath the tractor. “Cindy, she’s not cooperating! Turn it one more time.”

“Alright, sweetie, just keep your fingers out this time. She bites back, y’know!”

“I know, I know!”

Cindy turns the engine over and there’s another loud pop, just like when Prompto fixed the cover and glass on Ignis’ watch. It’s not a moment later that the tractor’s engine is rumbling like a behemoth. Prompto rolls out from beneath it and hops to his feet to thrust a fist in the air.

“Yes! She’s all better now,” he calls up to Cindy. “Tell Dave not to run her so hard next time! Her gears are old, and she’s a sensitive one.”

“Will do, sweetie! Thank you!”’

Cindy drives away and Prompto turns to look at Ignis. The adviser has to suppress a laugh; the blond is absolutely covered in grime, so much so that the freckles that dot his cheeks are nearly camouflaged by the dirt and oil. Those amethyst eyes glitter untainted as he smiles at him.

“Hiya, Iggy!”

“Prompto,” Ignis says with a nod. His tongue seems to feel a little thick for his mouth. “We forgot to discuss payment.”

“Oh yeah! I always forget that part,” Prompto says with a laugh. “C’mon, let’s go hash it out. I gotta write it down or I’ll forget again.”

Ignis’ lips seem to move of their own accord, stretching into an earnest smile across his face. It appears that Prompto’s enthusiasm is infectious. As they move across the compound and into the garage, Ignis finds that the sound of that pop has rooted itself into his brain. Perhaps the sound is connected to the trick, he thinks, as they sit down at the table again and Prompto takes out the watch.

“So it needs some new gears and I’m gonna have to clean it out. There’s like, a century’s worth of gunk in there.”

“It  _ is _ rather old,” Ignis says, looking where Prompto is pointing, but he hasn’t even taken the watch apart. In fact, it looks just as Ignis left it. “Pardon my curiosity, but how do you know, Prompto? It looks as if you haven’t even disassembled it.”

Prompto blushes and stutters, “don’t worry about it! I’ve got it under control.”

Ignis purses his lips as he looks at Prompto. His eyes dart to the side, his red cheeks darken, and he immediately begins picking at his cuticles. He’s not telling the truth, or at least not the whole truth.

“If there’s a problem with the watch, I can take it with me and find someone else to work on it. It’s not a problem,” Ignis says curtly. He’s more disappointed than he cares to admit; Prompto seems so good at this, but he’d rather not work with someone who keeps secrets, especially when he’s doing business with them.

The look Prompto gives him is absolutely heartbreaking. “I just- I can’t.”

“Can’t what?” Ignis asks. “Fix it?”

Prompto replies emphatically, “no, I can totally fix it, dude!”

“I’m afraid I don’t see the problem. As your patron, I would like to be aware of the process involved in fixing my watch. It’s a family heirloom, you see, and very important to me.”

Groaning, Prompto covers his face and pulls his knees up to perch cross-legged on his stool. He drags his hands down his face - they’re freckled, too, perhaps all of him is freckled and perhaps Ignis should stop thinking about this - as he looks at Ignis with desperation woven into his night-sky eyes.

“If I show you, you can’t tell anyone.”

Ignis nods. “I understand how trade works, Prompto. Your skills are valued, and I will not share them.”

“It’s not like that, it’s… it’s like, it’s me? I can change machines. Move them. Fixing them is just part of what I can do, and even then I don’t fix machines like Cid or Cindy.”

“I’m afraid you’ve lost me again,” Ignis chuckles.

“Follow me,” Prompto says quietly and leads Ignis out a back door. They walk along the perimeter until they stop at an old, junky car. It’s rusted and the windows were shot out long ago; the bullet holes in the side of it are just a hint at what it’s been through.

“This car has seen it all,” Ignis chuckles.

Prompto nods. “It’s how I got out of Nifleheim.”

Ignis doesn’t know what to say to that. He simply watches as Prompto drags a palm across its crimson hood, leaving a streak in the dust across its rusty surface. “It saved me. Kept running no matter how many bullets went through it. It wasn’t until I got here that I realized it wasn’t just a really, really good car, Ignis.”

“Then how did it continue on its journey, despite the damage?”

Prompto smiles a watery smile at him and murmurs, “go ahead, try and turn it on,” as he presses a key into his gloved palm.

Ignis climbs into the car carefully, cringing as a puff of dust blooms in a cloud as he sits in the old, cloth seat, before inserting the key. He turns it a few times and the engine doesn’t even click. “It’s dead, Prompto.”

“But it’s  _ not _ . Watch,” he says as he raises the hood.

The blond shoots him a watery smile before setting both hands on the hood. Furrowing his brow, he closes his eyes and inhales sharply; Ignis can see his arms tremble with effort as he presses his palms flat on the engine. There’s one loud pop, then two, then three, and Prompto gasps for air as the car shudders to life.

The engine roars and Ignis realizes he has his foot set on the gas. Pulling his foot away, the car settles into an idle, but Ignis can see his absent minded mistake has already caused Prompto grief. The blond’s brow is coated in sweat and teeth dig into his lip.

“Prompto, are you alright?” Ignis calls out.

“Just- I can’t-”

Dropping to his knees, Prompto cradles his hands against his chest and the car’s engine stalls and stops just as quickly as it started. The energy buzzing in the air settles and Ignis can feel the arid breeze blowing through his ashen locks once again.

Incredible. Amazing. Prompto is, by far, the most amazing person he’s ever met, and he’s met Cor Leonis so he’s sure that Prompto truly is astounding. The man in question breathes in short, sharp gasps as he rests his forehead against the front bumper of the car.

Ignis hurries from the front seat, coming to kneel at his side. Prompto lifts his head weakly, tears gathering at the corners of his eyes as he looks at Ignis. His hands are balled into tight fists at in his lap.

“Are you… what  _ was _ that? How did you do that, Prompto?”

Prompto opens his hands, staring at his fingers. The flesh is red and burned as if he’d flattened them against a grilltop, not a cold engine. Ignis takes his hand gingerly, turning it in his own to examine the damage. It’s not too bad, but nevertheless, it looks painful.

“I don’t know what it is, but I can make machines work, even when they’re broken. It’s like, if I want it to work hard enough, I can make it happen. It’s just, with the car, it’s so old now that I have to be making direct contact with the engine and concentrate  _ all _ of my want to make it turn over,” Prompto says weakly.

“Like magic,” Ignis says, bewildered.

“You make it sound so much better,” Prompto laughs. “When I say it to myself it sounds stupid.”

“And you’re working out here, in this little garage. With all of this  _ tremendous _ ability,” Ignis breathes, examining how the nuts and folds in the engine have imprinted themselves in Prompto’s skin.

“I wouldn’t call it tremendous…”

“It’s tremendous.  _ You _ are tremendous, Prompto.”

Ignis pauses for a moment. It would be incredible for the Citadel to have someone like Prompto, someone who can make any kind of machine work and has an uncanny ability to fix them. Sure, Hammerhead could use someone like him too, but he could serve a much bigger purpose in Insomnia.

“How would you like a job?” Ignis asks. “A paying one. Not an apprenticeship.”

Prompto raises his brows. “Can’t really say no to good money, Iggy.”

Ignis smiles at him warmly. “Well, alright then.”


End file.
